The Billionaire Throuple

Samuel the Third [Unraveling]

My body has far exceeded its natural limit in terms of fatigue. The night I've had with Andreas and Nehemiah has drained everything from it, relieving me of my ability to move.

I was certain the strain from collecting on my bargain, in full, would've sent my mind into wander. Yet, here I lay—wide awake—in between my two lovers who not only had their way with me, but first allowed me to care for them in the way I am most familiar.

The thrill of showing Nehemiah my love through pain should've occupied my thoughts, at least for the night. Having such a strong man surrender himself to me in the most intimate way, out of love, gave me a rush of adrenaline so great, it felt like something else entirely. The feeling was short lived, but I imagine it to be on the same level as winning five rounds of Russian roulette or defusing a bomb.

I should be in awe of the restraint he showed in bearing me, knowing it was his first time and knowing he carries a part of me within him created through our combined efforts should excite me beyond measure, but all I can think of is my bargain.

Every night since Andreas informed me of his terminal heart condition has been a sleepless one. I don't want to waste a single moment in his presence, so I lay, ponder and stare at him throughout each night. His condition is a definitive warning from the Simulation.

Of this, I am certain. The circumstances are ludicrous: a birth defect that conveniently went unnoticed and just so happens to progress exponentially once symptoms appear.

This, all of this, is the result of the bargain I've struck with the Simulation to spare his life. There is no other way to make sense of it. The Simulation has given me an ultimatum and a deadline to collect the despair it is owed. If I do not meet it, Andreas's life be forfeited.

I promised twice the despair of losing a lover and it shall have it one way or another. The claim that Andreas has been hiding this from me all along, since our union started at the hospital, is less likely than Cameron coming up with evidence that I framed him.

Like me, the Simulation hides its duplicity with keen ingenuity. There is no point in looking for evidence. I know what it requires of me. I also know I won't find any. Everything will check out because of a Butterfly Effect.

There will be records that vary slightly from my memory, that all seem to add up, but will only serve to make me doubt myself. In this, I cannot afford doubt. I need absolute certainty, like I have now, to carry out what it requires.

The reason my cover up is better than the all-mighty Simulation's is because it allowed it to be. It cannot collect despair directly. It requires users to act on its behalf and it sees an opportunity to use me for decades to come.

That's why it has given me the tools I need not only to pay its offering, but to ensure that I get away with doing so. This is a test I must pass. For Andreas, I will be a willing tool for the Simulation, however long it requires.

*****

My phone vibrates underneath me as I'm staring at my sleeping beauty, Andreas. Gregor writes, Tickets to Broadway tonight. He's included a photo of himself with a lovely girlfriend, both holding tickets as proof.

This, of course, is both code and alibi.

I never intended for Gregor to return from New York, but he is the only fixer I trust for extralegal matters and Cameron has become both problem and solution. The text means he is in town. I write back, Which show?

He'll reply with one of three messages when the timing is right. For now, it's my mouth's job to wake Nehemiah, so he'll leave early for class.